


let me praise the greatest good in you (by laying down my weapons)

by ninjamcgarrett



Series: the chair and the badge [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottoming, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, brief mentions of ash's memories and trauma, reference to the chair and badge line because i'm a sentimental dork like that, word porn about the emotions these two idiots have for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjamcgarrett/pseuds/ninjamcgarrett
Summary: “What do you need?” Pike asked, and Ash wasn’t sure if he was asking about what he needed after letting his Klingon side take over or what he needed from Pike. And he wasn’t entirely certain Pike wasn’t asking onboththose counts.
Relationships: Christopher Pike/Ash Tyler | Voq
Series: the chair and the badge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011543
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	let me praise the greatest good in you (by laying down my weapons)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I'm about ten lightyears late to this ship, but I just finally binged the first two seasons of Disco in the last few weeks. So here, have 11.4k of feels and smut about these two.
> 
> Eternal gratitude and love to [somehowunbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken) for beta-ing this for me, letting me yell at them about my Ash/Pike feels, and for being the best friend a girl could ask for. <3
> 
> Hopefully this brings some comfort and happy distraction on what is undoubtedly the most stressful day of our lives. Take care of yourselves, darlings. <3

It started out already a long, _long_ day when he woke, tangled and panting in the sheets, eyes scanning to make sure he was still safe. It was one of those days where the hits didn’t stop coming once Ash had swung his feet over the edge of his bed. He’d just barely finished downing coffee and something that would qualify as breakfast (he still wasn’t all that keen on food so soon after nightmares, sue him) when his comm badge sounded with a request for him to come to the bridge. Ash scrubbed a hand through his hair, setting the locks loose and probably at a somewhat frazzled-looking angle around his face before he pushed back from the table and headed for the nearest turbolift.

The sight that greeted him on the bridge made him halt midstep, his blood crashing through his veins in a discordant wave, nerves alight with pain from instruments and tools that had long been left behind.

A Klingon bird-of-prey was hovering not far from the _Discovery_ , just hanging there in space, decloaked and inert. Pike waved him over to the ready room, and once the doors had closed behind the two of them, quietly filled him in. Apparently, the cruiser had been adrift for some time and without communications, and had thereby missed the end of the war. Somehow, Pike had managed to negotiate them not firing on _Discovery_ , but trying to talk them into believing the truce was real wasn’t going well. At this point, it was only a matter of time before the Klingons powered up their weapons, unless they could make headway in the talks.

“When’s the last time they had contact with the rest of the coalition?” Ash murmured, eyes locked on the screen in the ready room that displayed the ship.

Pike’s voice was steady, eyes sympathetic as he answered, “They still think Voq is commanding the Ship of the Dead.”

“Jesus,” Ash said, winded.

A barrage of memories threatened to break through, but he shoved them back viciously. Now was not the time to fall into them, dark and filled with unknowns, possibly tripping a panic attack in the process. He concentrated on pulling a deep breath in through his nose and slowly releasing it through parted lips. Satisfied that the memories wouldn’t overtake him, he was quiet for a moment, mulling over his options. 

“They’ll fire on us if they decide we’re trying to pull one over on them?”

Pike’s nod settled it. Ash, despite the weeks of the two of them sniping and butting heads, respected the hell out of the man standing across the table from him with the captain’s stripes on his shoulders, especially now. Getting stuck in a shuttle, locked in a temporal drift, would do that to a guy. They’d been sniping less and less since then, more just — testing, prodding to see where each would give and bend to meet halfway. Pike’s voice, his words, his whole _being_ had been less rigid with Ash in the intervening weeks since The Shuttle (as they’d jokingly started calling it), and his bearing now was open, receptive and supportive as he waited for Ash to speak. Ash, now, decision made, felt a jittery relief that threatened to unseat the emotions he was just barely keeping in check. It was a relief that Pike wasn’t asking him, wasn’t ordering him. He was giving Ash all the details and letting him come to his own conclusions, trusting (still something so new and fragile between them) that Ash would make the best choice.

“Open an audio channel with them,” he said, voice firm but quiet.

“Do you want to do this on the bridge?” Pike asked, equally low.

Ash shook his head. “I — you know I’m going to have to go _there_ , and this crew is still, uh, a bit twitchy about that side of me. Probably best for everyone if I stay in here. You can go though; they’ll need you on the bridge.”

Pike shook his head, one corner of his lips hitching up in a gentle smile. “I’m staying right here. If things go south, and I highly doubt they will, it’s all of five seconds between here and the chair. And I can give commands just as easily from here as there.”

Ash, seeing something in Pike’s eyes, something warm and unguarded, couldn’t stop himself. “Captain, is this your way of saying that just this once the badge outranks the chair?”

Pike’s eyes narrowed just slightly and Ash bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“It’s not the badge,” Pike said as he reached out to brush a finger along the edge of the black-and-silver insignia on Ash’s chest, “that outranks the chair.”

Pike’s eyes flicked up to meet his and he added, so low that Ash nearly missed it, “Some things are more important than the badge.”

Ash sucked in a surprised breath and could feel his eyes go wide. Pike dropped his hand to his own badge and tapped it.

“Mr. Saru, open an audio channel with the Klingon ship and pipe it through into the ready room.”

Ash heard Saru’s response, but was already closing his eyes. He let himself go, floating in his own mind, slowly lowering each defense between him and the — everything that was before the prison ship where he’d been rescued. It was a bit like floating in the water back home. Ash always strove to maintain a balance, mentally, where he was floating without risking going under or having to swim to safer depths. Allowing Voq’s memories and feelings to come through was the mental equivalent of lowering his feet, letting his body sink further into the water, submerging until the water was closing over his head and he was floating untethered, buffeted by the currents of language and emotion and thought in a wholly different landscape.

The language was always the first to come through, words and thoughts shifting into different lettering, different sounds, different patterns. The memories followed, misty and vague until he allowed himself to sink further, and then they swam into focus, sharp and bright, sparking in the deep. The emotions were always the last to bubble up, and if he wasn’t careful, didn’t keep himself treading at a safe depth, the emotions could drown him, vicious and full of hungry intent, fueled by a warrior’s heart that roared for acknowledgement.

“The channel is open in five, four,” Pike began the countdown.

Ash’s eyes snapped open when Pike trailed off and he was aware of Pike watching him, but his eyes were focused over his shoulder, the stars outside the window showing not their current location, but where the Ship of the Dead had been before Kol ousted him.

The harsh, guttural sounds of the Klingon language didn’t shock him anymore. He’d grown used to it during his time on Qo’noS, which made the fluency less startling to his human side every time he reached for it. The words fell easily from his mouth now, focused and edged with power.

“Your orders are to stand down,” he began. “The war with the Federation is over. It is time to return to Qo’noS and swear your fealty to the High Chancellor, pledge to remain Klingon without a war to seal it. We are still Klingon, and still retain our rights.”

The voice that answered him was suspicious and demanded to know who could speak Klingon so well on a Federation starship, and who could dare to presume what it meant to be Klingon.

The small part of Ash’s consciousness that was still him, still Ash and not Voq, knew he couldn’t say his real name, couldn’t reveal himself. Pike knew it too, based on his reaction to the translation of the question. Once the ship returned to Klingon territory, the news of Voq’s supposed death to the crew would have led to too many questions.

“I am Mur’Eq, a liaison to the Federation by appointment of the High Chancellor. I served under T’Kuvma and Voq at the Battle of the Binaries,” he responded, hoping it was good enough and could feel trepidation waiting for the response from the other ship.

One of Pike’s eyebrows arched up, but he nodded, looking pleased. Ash could see him mouthing “good choice,” but his mind was still thinking in Klingon, still processing in Klingon, still _being_ in Klingon, too busy to do anything other than run every scenario of what came next. He was fairly certain at least the captain of the ship hadn’t been onboard the Ship of the Dead that day at the binary stars, and he just hoped that none of his senior crew had been there. He couldn’t be certain that a Mur’Eq had been present under T’Kuvma, even though the name was common enough among the warrior elite.

The Klingons bought it though, hook, line, and sinker. From there, it became much easier to talk them into accepting that yes, the war truly was over, and the Klingon Empire still remained, though much different from when the bird-of-prey had last seen it. It had been a long time since Ash had last had to let his Klingon nature come to the surface for this long, not since leaving Qo’noS. He could feel the ebb of his energy, human body flushed and then shivering from the adrenaline spike and fall.

By the time he’d negotiated a contingent of engineers (with a small security compliment) beaming over to help the Klingons repair their warp drive, Ash’s hands were gripping the glossy wood of the table until his skin had turned a blanched white. His eyes were unfocused, the stars blurred and Pike’s face distant as he signed off with the standard Klingon farewell. He could smell the fires of Qo’noS, the soot and ash and scorching heat that had lingered in his nose long after leaving the planet for the final time. He’d slipped so far down to reach for what he needed in the talks, had let his body sink too deep into the dark currents of his past. He couldn’t tell which way was up, which way out of the past, out of Voq and back to Ash.

Hands settling over his own, warm and solid, snapped his gaze back into focus. Light and sound rushed in, the warm colors of Pike’s ready room, the comforting glow of the stars outside an anchor as Pike’s touch raised him to the surface of his mind. Ash heaved in a long breath as the Voq side of his mind slipped back into the deep once more and fell silent in the murky depths. His thoughts, his emotions lightened into those of human Ash, his memories — of lurking along _Discovery_ ’s halls, teaching Tilly how to spar, of The Shuttle with Pike — settled around him like the warm sunshine after too long in the cold water.

“Hi,” Pike murmured when Ash’s eyes flicked over to him.

Ash fought to steady his breathing, keep his chest from heaving. “Hi,” he managed, voice rough, but thankfully solid and sure around the Standard language.

“Welcome back,” Pike said, and it was then that Ash noticed one of Pike’s thumbs rubbing back and forth in a soothing path over his skin.

Ash was so grateful for him in that moment. He was so grateful for Pike not pressing, not making small talk, not shoving him out the door and on his way. The ready room was still and quiet, just the two of them in the space, the only sound the low, comforting hum of the engines in the background.

“Thanks,” Ash rasped, voice still shot from the deep sounds of his once-native language. He cleared his throat and continued, “Thanks for trusting me on that one, for letting me — go there.”

Ash wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the way one corner of Pike’s mouth tipped up in a smile, the soft sparkle in his eyes, it was capable of being coupled with so many different emotions, different moods. Now though, it was gentle and easy, the sight comforting after the harsh memories that had taken over Ash’s mind.

“Of course,” Pike replied. “And thanks, for navigating us through that potential minefield.”

Ash was surprised to hear himself huff out a short laugh. “Gotta have practice for a chair of my own someday, I guess.”

He snapped his mouth shut, unsure why he was going back to that refrain, why it felt _right_. Something in Pike’s eyes reached past Ash’s uniform, under the badge, wending its way through his layers to where he was still so unsure of everything, including himself.

“What do you need?” Pike asked, and Ash wasn’t sure if he was asking about what he needed after letting his Klingon side take over or what he needed from Pike. And he wasn’t entirely certain Pike wasn’t asking on _both_ those counts.

Ash managed, “I — I’m not sure.” He flexed his fingers to get the blood flowing again and Pike gently pulled his hands away. “I’ve got to. Go,” he said, words stilted on their way out of his throat. “I’ll see you later.”

He turned and very much did not bolt out of the ready room and into the turbolift with the bridge a blur on his left, no matter what anyone else might say.

Ash wasn’t sure how the rest of the day passed, but he was vaguely aware of burying himself in pacing the decks of the ship, of time spent working out until some of the thoughts careening around his head settled, of staring into yet another cup of coffee as if the swirls of cream might reveal an answer to the question he couldn’t yet ask himself.

After a late dinner, he went back to pacing the halls again, finding it the easiest way to let his mind sort itself out. The way Pike had treated him, full of kindness and an easy kind of knowing, had completely baffled him. Captain Christopher Pike, who had taken the chance of trusting him. Christopher Pike, who had trusted Ash enough to touch him while Ash was fighting his way back from Voq’s memories and not lash out at Pike while still under. Christopher, who had held onto him and let him breathe through the transition into reality, or reality as Ash knew it with two sets of memories and lives and emotions contained in the space between his ears and between his ribs. Chris, who had asked him, voice warm, what Ash needed.

Specialist Ash Tyler, of all people, who had done so much, hurt so many others, who still maintained that he didn’t deserve an ounce of kindness. (Though, Admiral Cornwell was working with him on that, in their weekly sessions. She reminded him constantly that it started with him being kind to himself, which was still hard some days.) Specialist Tyler, who was alone and apart, from his position with Section 31, from the damaged, scorched bridges with his former crewmates on the _Discovery_ , and because of his blended past. Ash Tyler, who was a being of two worlds, but belonged fully to neither. Ash, who found that Pike — Chris — was the one who helped quiet his mind, helped pull him into safer waters, where he was steadier, more sure of himself.

Ash blinked, startled slightly to find himself standing outside Pike’s quarters. He turned to go, but hesitated. It was late, late enough that Pike should be finished on the bridge and in for the night, barring any number of things that could befall a Starfleet vessel cruising through space.

Before he could think better of it, Ash had pressed the chime, and was surprised when the doors slid open almost immediately. He stepped inside, feet carrying him without much input from his brain, body seemingly on autopilot and pulling him in where he needed to be, despite what his brain might think or judge to the contrary.

It was dim inside, the lights low and comforting after the stark, bright ones of the hallway. Ash blinked twice as his eyes adjusted, and spotted Pike ensconced on the couch. He was in a soft shirt and loose sleep pants, an honest-to-god hardcover book in his hands, a tumbler of whiskey on the end table within reach. The lighting, practically mood lighting at this level, made the silver in his hair glint, and his eyes were flashing as they looked up at Ash, warm welcome evident in their blue-grey depths.

Fuck, but the man was gorgeous, Ash couldn’t help but think.

“Hi,” he said, echoing their words from earlier.

“Hi,” Pike replied, setting his book aside. “I wasn’t sure if you really would come to see me later.”

Right, Ash realized, he’d mumbled something about finding Pike later, while he was busy trying to extract himself from the ready room without a panic attack or breaking down in front of Pike, or just unlocking his jaw and letting all the tumbled thoughts in his head fall onto the table for Pike to sort through and order into a more manageable mess.

“I — yeah,” Ash answered ineloquently.

What the hell was he doing here? What had he really come for? To talk? To bare his soul? To explain? Explain what? What was left to explain? Except for the way Ash felt the space in his chest reordering the longer Pike looked at him. Except for the way Ash felt more settled, more still than he had since the _Yeager_ fell apart around him at the Battle of the Binaries. Except for the way that it seemed so natural to give in and follow the pull in his chest that led directly to Pike. Except.

Except.

Everything he was feeling, everything he was reading from Pike, could just be in his head, like so much else in his life, so much else that had been programmed for him to believe under L’Rell’s orders.

“Were you serious,” he asked, stepping closer to Pike, who was still seated on the couch, “earlier, when you asked what I needed?”

Pike’s eyes never strayed from his face, gaze steady as he looked up at Ash, who was now on the other side of the low table, the only physical thing left between them. Though, the invisible, the emotional things between them, or, more accurately, that Ash supposed to be piled up there, waiting for Pike’s words, remained as well.

“I was,” Pike said, and Ash couldn’t look away from those eyes, kind and deep and inviting.

Pike waited a beat, letting the words settle before asking once more, “What do you need, Ash?”

Ash couldn’t stop the soft noise that escaped him. That was the first time Pike had used his first name and it took more than he wanted to admit to refrain from doubling over from the fierce _want_ that rushed through him, pushing for him to go to Pike.

“Pike,” he whispered, pleading, unsure what he was pleading for.

“Call me Chris,” Pike — Chris — responded, voice kind and without a hint of a captain’s command in it.

Ash went to him then, helpless to do anything else. It seemed that all his pacing, all his work to wade back from the undertow of Voq’s memories, had led him to here, now, as he stepped around the table and bracketed Chris’ spread legs, before straddling his thighs. Ash was aware of the soft cushions meeting his knees, the way Chris’ body sank further into the couch, but he had eyes only for the way Chris tipped his head back, jawline in stark relief from the stars outside, eyes never sliding away from Ash’s face. Ash cupped Chris’ face, the stubble of day’s end rough and real against his palms, making something in his chest catch and then release, unwinding with a gentle sigh.

Chris’ hands settled on his hips, solid and warm, grounding him in the present. One hand slid up his side, over the deep blue of the uniform and over his chest to the badge that gleamed in the light. Chris’ fingers closed over it and waited until Ash nodded before pulling it off his uniform. The _clink_ as it was set on the end table was loud in the quiet, the sound carrying weight more emotional than physical, with a note of finality.

“It’s just us here,” Chris whispered as his hand came back to Ash’s hip. “No ranks, no badges, no chair.”

Ash pressed harder into the cushions, making them both settle deeper. “What about this one?”

Chris grinned, a real, bright thing that was crooked and gorgeous. “This is a couch, technically.”

“Whatever,” Ash said, and how on earth did he sound fond? He hadn’t thought he was still capable of that, let alone expressing it.

“Ash,” Chris said, his voice so affectionate that it made Ash feel fit to burst from swirling emotion. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Ash drew a deep breath in and focused on the way it filled his lungs, chest expanding in time with the feelings inside him. He wanted — so much, maybe too much. But Chris was under him, calm, and thumb moving in that same reassuring pattern over his hip through the thick material of his uniform.

“I — ” he licked his lips, and reminded himself to listen to Cornwell’s advice to be more assertive about what he wanted. “I want you, Chris. Can I, can I have that?”

He didn’t miss the way Chris inhaled, startled, and he began to lean back, already fearing he’d asked for too much. Chris’ fingers tightened on him, digging into his hipbones and holding him in place.

“You’ve got me already,” Chris said, his words sending Ash reeling. “What else?”

“Oh, oh god,” Ash exhaled, relief and lightheaded delight making him feel as if he might float away, save for Chris’ grounding hold on him. “Can I kiss you, please? Only if you want that, Chris?”

A small part of Ash’s brain catalogued the way Chris’ pupils widened when Ash said his name, and filed it away for later, to remind himself that this had really happened. Because then Chris was reaching up and cupping the side of Ash’s face with a gentle hand, touch light. Ash leaned into it, still taking in the sight of Chris’ face so close, savoring the comfort radiating from every point where they touched.

“Of course,” Chris replied, caressing Ash’s cheekbone with his thumb.

Ash was frozen in place, straddling Chris, brain shorting out that Chris wanted this, wanted _him_ , was leaning up and into him. Chris telegraphed his every move, slow and intent, giving Ash time to pull back if he needed, eyes watching Ash’s face for any sign of panic. Ash let his eyes slip closed as he pressed into Chris’ hand, practically sagging in relief as he felt the close heat of Chris’ chest touching his.

Soft lips met his and Ash inhaled sharply through his nose at the contact. The next thing he knew, he was cupping Chris’ face with both hands, kissing back. Chris had started the kiss gentle and slow, giving Ash time to process, to decide if it was okay, but the minute Ash pulled him close, Ash was lost in the warm anchoring of his body to Chris. The too tight feeling in his chest, emotions swirling confused and disordered, expanded and dissipated under Chris’ touch. Ash squeezed his legs around Chris’, practically clinging, as he hitched their hips closer together, needing more of Chris, more of this, more of all of it now.

Chris pulled Ash’s lower lip between his teeth and Ash whined, actually whined as he felt the thrill race through his body. He let his lips part and gave himself over to Chris, who licked in and tasted him, could surely taste the coffee and cream there, the desperation and need coursing through him. Ash slid one hand down Chris’ throat, fingers trailing along slowly heating skin before they slid lower, dragging across soft fabric stretched over Chris’ chest. He found the hem of the shirt and slipped beneath it to splay his hand wide over Chris’ ribs, pressing there as he realized that he wanted to put his mouth there, trace the lines of his chest, suck reminders of this moment into Chris’ pale skin.

Chris was deepening the kiss, pushing in, and Ash kissed back for all he was worth. Ash tried not to lose himself in the moment, afraid he’d lose himself, lose control, but something about Chris, about the two of them together, made him think, made him hope that maybe, just maybe, he could let go and still be whole.

Chris opened his mouth for Ash and Ash leaned in to lick into the wet heat of his mouth, wanting to fuck Chris’ mouth with his tongue, with his dick, and have Chris do the same with him. The knowledge sent a bolt of heat surging straight to his dick, growing uncomfortably hard in the tight confines of his uniform. Starfleet uniforms were designed to look good, but damn if they weren’t designed to be painful at other times.

Ash felt a tug at the zipper of his jacket as Chris pulled back to lean his forehead against Ash’s.

Chris sounded breathless when he asked, “May I?”

The tender way he asked, sounding so thoughtful, so loving made Ash want to cry. He’d never, _ever_ been treated like this in this type of situation, as a human or Klingon. He nodded, breath shaky.

The words tumbling out of his mouth surprised him.

“Naked, I wanna be naked, Chris. Please?”

“God,” Chris said on a punched-out groan. “You could kill a guy saying something like that.”

He carded a hand through Ash’s disheveled hair, letting the long strands tangle around his fingers. “Do you want me naked too? I don’t want to move too fast for you.”

Ash shook his head as one corner of his mouth, already wet and red, pulled up in a smile. “Not moving fast enough, to be honest. I’ve wanted you naked for — fuck, for a while now.”

Ash opened his eyes in time to see the words land, the way Chris’ gaze went molten, how he licked his lips and swallowed hard. Chris nodded, head bobbing quickly and making his nose brush Ash’s.

“Yeah, yes, that’s — that sounds great actually.”

Ash felt something release in his brain and suddenly he was moving, hands digging at the hem of Chris’ shirt as his mouth trailed along Chris’ jaw. He was desperate, skin aching to be free of the uniform and feel the cool air around them with the warmth of Chris beneath him. Chris’ hands were dragging the zipper down on his jacket, impeded only by Ash lifting Chris’ shirt up and off him. Chris shoved Ash’s jacket off his shoulders and got the black shirt underneath off before flinging it to some corner of the room. Ash shivered, the air colder than he realized, and pressed in close to Chris, hands skating over bare skin. He felt Chris working at his pants and leaned back so he could get his boots off.

Chris got Ash’s pants open at last and laid a hand over his dick, which made Ash groan and drop his head to Chris’ shoulder.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Ash moaned as Chris pressed lightly, making Ash roll his hips into Chris’ hand.

He heard Chris swallow before he said, “God, Ash, I can’t wait to see you naked. You’re gorgeous.”

Ash nuzzled into the join of Chris’ neck and shoulder, and mouthed at the tender skin there. He tried not to tense up as he remembered the scars that covered his body, the long, jagged ones across his back, the shorter ones near his heart, the deep, still-purple ones along his spine. He knew objectively that he was good-looking, but the scars, the knowledge of what they meant, what had been done to him and what he’d done because of them, had long since wiped out any sense of pride in his appearance. He was still a little surprised he’d wanted to be fully naked so quickly with Chris, and he wondered how Chris would react when he finally saw the marks.

Chris’ free hand pressed flat against his back and slid up until he cupped the back of Ash’s neck. Ash felt his fingers scratching back and forth through his hair and some of the tension left his body, the motion and weight calming.

“You are so beautiful,” Chris said, emphasizing each word with a gentle scratch along his scalp. “We can keep some clothes on, if that helps. Wanna put your shirt back on?”

Ash shook his head, face still buried in the side of Chris’ neck. “No, no, that’s — okay. It’s just been a while since anyone’s seen them. _I_ still have a hard time looking directly at them.”

“Keep your eyes on me then,” was Chris’ soft response, which made something go gooey near Ash’s heart.

Ash pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck and smiled. “Now that I can definitely do.”

He pulled back enough to look at Chris and found only acceptance and something deeper in his look, not the judgement or condescension or disgust he’d expected about the reminders of his past that marked his body. Chris was continuing to surprise Ash, not just on the bridge or in the ready room, but here and now, in small ways that meant so much more than Ash could put into words in either of his languages.

Ash rolled up on his knees to give Chris space to push his trousers and underwear off, while reaching for Chris’ sleep pants. Chris obliged and lifted his hips before kicking them out of the way once Ash had pushed them down strong thighs that he definitely wanted to get his face between at some point.

“Fuck, you always go commando?” Ash grunted, surprised, as Chris’ dick was freed of the thin cotton of his sleepwear, already hard and flushed.

Instead of answering, Chris pulled Ash down to straddle him again, hands on hips once more. The lean curve of Ash’s calves was flush with Chris’ thighs, the contact driving Ash toward madness, a madness he could happily drown in, that promised more of this, more of Chris, more of them. Ash pushed his hips in close, making their dicks slide together, satin skin on satin skin. It was almost too much after the constriction of their clothing, and entirely not enough now that they were finally naked.

Ash trailed his hands up Chris’ chest, learning every curve, every line, every place where he could feel Chris’ heartbeat in startling clarity. He found himself cupping Chris’ face again and leaned in to kiss him, open-mouthed and filthy. Chris groaned into it as he wrapped his arms around Ash, hauling him impossibly closer. Chris kissed like he touched, like he spoke — full of intent and care, deep and never obscuring his honest heart. Something in it, possibly all of it, made Ash’s heart ache in a sweet way, driving him to kiss harder, hold tighter, as Chris mapped out his body with slow fingers that left shivery fire in their wake.

He ground his hips forward, hands too busy holding onto Chris to get a hand around their dicks, even though his was aching and needed something, anything more. Chris’ fingers moved down his back, pressing in and dragging, which made Ash break the kiss to tip his head back and moan. Chris got his mouth on Ash’s throat and scraped his teeth down to his collarbone as Ash rocked against him once more, seeking friction. Chris’ fingers skated lower, one hand just teasing the cleft of his ass before it came around to wrap around Ash’s dick.

The blunt press of Chris’ fingers made Ash gasp and he knew then what he wanted, with a clarity so startling he was surprised he hadn’t realized it earlier.

“Fuck me,” he said, uncaring about how breathy it came out. “Please, Chris, I want you.”

Chris swore against Ash’s neck, where he had been working what would be a dark bruise into the skin there. He pulled back to look up into Ash’s eyes, searching.

“Are you sure, love?”

A high whine came from somewhere and Ash realized that _he_ was making that noise.

“Say, say that again,” he panted, out of breath from the rush.

Chris’ brow furrowed before it clicked and then he smiled, open and sweet. “Ash, love, are you sure? I — you have no idea how much I’d love that, but only if you’re sure. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The breath Ash drew in was ragged and he so could not find a single fuck to give about it. He wanted Chris to fucking _rail_ him, fuck him deep enough that Ash would feel it the next day when they were both on the bridge. He wanted to feel the ache and the stretch and to know that Chris had done that, had made him come apart in the way he needed but had been too scared to do before now, before Chris.

Ash nodded, so sure. “You could never hurt me.” And he knew it, down into his bones, that Chris truly could never hurt him. “Please,” he whispered.

He took one of Chris’ hands in his and pressed it to his chest, his thumb rubbing back and forth in the same pattern Chris had done earlier. He hoped that his actions, his words, the steady look on his face would convey everything to Chris, his trust in him, the hope that Chris would catch him, hold him as he came apart, all of it.

“Okay,” Chris smiled as he spread his fingers over Ash’s chest. “You want to stay here or move somewhere else?”

Ash grinned. “Here. For a bit.”

And without further ado, he pulled Chris’ hand up to his mouth and sucked in two fingers before swirling his tongue around them.

Chris arched up under him and groaned, the sound deep and unfairly erotic as far as Ash was concerned. Then again, he had two of Chris’ fingers in his mouth and was sucking hard on them, lapping over and around them until they were properly wet. Maybe Chris had a reason to look like he’d just walked into turbolift doors that were too slow to open.

“Fuck, Ash, your _mouth_ ,” Chris panted, eyes glazed already. “God, I’d come embarrassingly fast in your mouth.”

Ash hummed around his fingers, and wrapped a hand around Chris’ dick to stroke hard once. He released Chris’ fingers with a loud _pop_ and knew he had what probably amounted to a hungry smile on his face.

“Next time. I want to feel you come down my throat, maybe on my face too.”

He bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t gone too far, but Chris just hauled him down to kiss him hard.

“It’s a date,” Chris whispered against his mouth before he pressed another kiss there.

Ash opened his eyes to find Chris watching him, waiting for a sign. He smiled and nipped at Chris’ lower lip.

“It’s a date,” he echoed.

The smile Chris gave him was blinding when they were a breath apart like that. Ash nearly fell off his lap, overwhelmed by the intensity, the way his own heart hammered in his chest, clearly enthralled.

He didn’t have time to react, though, as Chris slipped his hand down and into the warm cleft of his ass. Chris rubbed one spit-slicked finger back and forth over Ash’s hole, which made Ash tremble around a soft moan.

“God, _yes_ ,” he gasped, reaching for Chris.

Chris met him halfway, the kiss gentle but deep, a perfect contrast to the slow, shallow press of his finger into Ash. Ash gave himself over to Chris and let him lead. Chris licked into his mouth, coaxing Ash to relax into him as he worked his finger in and out. Ash’s body was tense, unused to the push, the sensations, but between Chris’ mouth and his finger, Ash found his body releasing as it eased into the stretch. Chris crooked his finger on the slide back out and tugged at the rim and hummed in satisfaction when Ash shuddered around him.

Ash swallowed down the noise, greedy for more of it. The tacit approval of his body reacting to Chris soothed something in Ash, something that needed to be told he was good, he was beautiful like this, that he was allowed to want this and _like_ it.

He rocked back against Chris’ hand, wanting him deeper already.

“C’mon, I can take more,” he panted, setting his teeth into Chris’ lower lip.

“Easy, darling,” Chris said as he smoothed a hand over his hip. “We don’t have to rush.”

Ash couldn’t help it as he clenched around Chris’ finger, pulling him in deeper.

“Oh god,” Chris moaned. “You feel so good already, fuck.”

Ash ground against him, and let out a low noise of approval when he felt the tip of Chris’ second finger rub at where his first finger met tight, hot skin. “S-same,” he gasped. “I want you in me, like, now.”

Chris wrapped his free hand around Ash’s dick and squeezed, making Ash buck into his grip. “Soon, I promise.”

“’Kay,” Ash whispered, trusting Chris to make it good for him, to get him ready.

Chris eased the second finger in alongside the first and Ash exhaled slowly through it.

“Good, breathe with me, love,” Chris murmured as he pulled both fingers back before working them in again.

Ash disentangled one hand from Chris’ hair to press over his heart and leaned down until their foreheads were together. “You’re so good to me,” he admitted, his voice quiet and small.

Chris gently spread his fingers inside him, and Ash hitched his hips as it made something begin to buzz in his veins, hot and insistent. Chris didn’t say anything, just kissed the corner of Ash’s mouth and smiled. Ash lost himself then, in the way Chris scissored his fingers, curled them, stroked deep and continuous inside him, and the way his body responded, loosening and unwinding and loving everything Chris gave him.

Ash let out a hurt noise when Chris pulled all the way out, but Chris made a soft shushing sound and held up his hand to Ash’s mouth.

“Oh,” Ash laughed, and lapped at Chris’ ring finger before sucking it and the other two fingers into his mouth.

Chris grunted in surprise and Ash released his fingers after a moment and gave him a shy smile.

“I kind of love it,” he admitted. “If you want it — ”

“Yes, yes to whatever it is,” Chris broke in, which made Ash laugh again.

“I wanna get my head between your thighs and eat you out until you come on my tongue,” Ash whispered and then kissed Chris so that Chris could taste Ash.

Chris broke the kiss to bite along Ash’s jaw as he easily slipped two fingers back into Ash. “Could I get a hand in your hair? Hold on to it while I say your name? Would you let me do that?”

Chris timed his words with the push of a third finger into him. Ash swore and realized a beat too late that it was in Klingon, but Chris didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, his hips hitched up against Ash, making it clear how turned on he was, how much he wanted Ash. It was dizzying how much Ash loved it, all of it.

Thankfully, when Ash found how to work his mouth again, the words came out not in Klingon.

“You could wrap your legs around me, hold me there until all I smell, taste is you.” Ash licked his lips and continued, “I’d leave marks there, so you know that it was real, that it wasn’t a dream, wasn’t imagined.”

Ash knew about Chris’ experience on Talos IV and had suspected more than once that Chris’ overt attention to details, to his surroundings stemmed from the desire to know that it was reality and not an illusion. Hell, Ash didn’t blame him in the slightest, given his own background. As much as Ash needed reassurance that this was real, he knew Chris needed that too, and was more than happy to soothe that desire.

What he didn’t expect was how Chris pulled his fingers out and then gripped his ass in both hands before standing from the couch. He kissed Ash hard as he began walking them — somewhere. Ash wasn’t entirely sure where, but he suspected it was probably the bedroom. The kiss had turned fierce, needy, Chris fucking into his mouth and making Ash cling to the broad line of his shoulders.

“I’m here,” Ash assured him, breathing hard when Chris pulled back to navigate them through a door and not into it. “Right here,” he added as he tightened his grip around Chris.

A noise that was half groan and half whimper rumbled from deep in Chris’ chest and Ash couldn’t help but kiss him, equally desperate now. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed someone to keep the nightmares, the doubts, the demons at bay. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who needed saving.

Ash felt air rushing past him and grunted when his back hit the bed. Chris pushed him up the bed and then crawled up over him to straddle Ash’s lithe form and suck one hell of a mark into the meat of his shoulder. Chris was bracketing him with his body, Ash beneath him and unable to move except to wind his arms around him.

He was gasping for air, breathless from the fall and waiting for the panic to land, to feel trapped and cornered. He braced for the shaking, for the clammy sweat, the lurch in his stomach. Something must have given him away because Chris pushed up to his elbows and knees and looked down at him.

“Talk to me,” he coaxed, his voice gentle and absent any command.

Ash could see the minute it clicked for Chris and then Chris was sitting up and beginning to roll off of him.

“No,” Ash stopped him, “wait.”

Chris paused, weight on one knee and half of his body already leaning to give him space.

“I’m — okay,” Ash replied, wonder clear in his voice. He cleared his throat as Chris settled next to him, one leg still draped over Ash’s hips. “Back then, I was always pinned, always on the bottom. Trapped. I still dream about it.”

Chris reached out a slow hand, giving Ash time to stop him or move away. Instead, Ash let it come to rest over his heart, beating fast from what they had been doing, but not from flashbacks.

“And now?” Chris asked.

Ash rolled his head to find Chris watching him, not reserved or in judgement, but with care. It made the back of his eyes sting, the way Chris radiated pure tenderness. Ash blew out a breath and smiled, though it was a bit wobbly.

“Now, I’m okay, I think.” He worried his lip for a moment and then added, “Yeah, I’m okay. Never saw that one coming in a million lightyears.”

He rolled then to straddle Chris once more. “Though _this_ ,” he rolled his hips down, making both of them groan before he continued, “is pretty damn great.”

Chris reached up to trace the outline of Ash’s jaw. “Okay,” he responded, face brilliant with a smile. “However you want me, love. Like that or like this. I want you to feel good, for it to be good for you.”

“What about you?” Ash replied.

The easy laugh Chris let out made Ash wish he could wrap up in a sound, that one particularly, and stay there to bask in the gentle joy of it.

“Trust me,” Chris said, “it’ll be good for me because I’m with you.”

Ash’s mouth fell open at that and he gaped for a moment, lost as to what to say. What could he possibly say in response to that?

Chris must have sensed the direction of his thoughts, because he turned slightly pink and said, “When I’m with someone, in bed, I like to make them feel good. That’s what makes it good for me.” He rolled his hips up into Ash and made both of them shiver. “Though, I like, uhm, being taken care of too. Not giving up control totally, but just, letting the other person lead, letting them, uhm, — ”

“Fuck you until you can’t think straight?” Ash supplied, unable to hide his grin.

Chris’ rueful laugh was a thing of beauty, one of many when it came to him. “Yeah.” He trailed a hand down Ash’s thigh and murmured, “God, I can’t wait for next time. Is that too weird, too much?”

Ash shook his head and ducked down to kiss him. “Not at all. Most people think me, all of me, is too much, so you’ve got a long way to go before you get to my limit for too weird.”

Chris leaned up on one elbow and took his time kissing Ash. Ash was definitely a bit dazed when Chris finally pulled back.

“You’re not too much,” Chris murmured. “Not for me.”

Ash opened his mouth to argue, a knee-jerk response, but Chris put a finger over his lips. “Don’t make me institute a ‘no self-deprecation when in bed’ rule.”

That, at least, made Ash snort out a laugh. “Alright, alright, as you wish.” He pushed Chris down and dropped over him, letting out a low hum as his eyes roved over Chris. “Now, where were we?”

“Right,” Chris said, “here.”

He slid three fingers into Ash on the second word, making Ash bow his back and let loose a broken moan. Chris spread his fingers and curled them to stroke in just the right place to make Ash’s head spin and his heart thunder.

“Chris, god, yeah, that’s it,” Ash babbled, moving in time with him as he fucked himself on Chris’ hand.

How they could go from a serious discussion that made his heart melt (something he’d thought no longer possible) to moving together in a way that made his brain melt was beyond Ash. But he definitely was not upset about it. Far from it. He wanted more of it, all of it, with Chris. He didn’t have time to be thunderstruck over the realization, because his body was practically singing under Chris’ touch, wanting more, now, there.

“C’mon, Chris,” he panted as he dropped his head to Chris’ shoulder and rolled his forehead back and forth there. “I’m ready; I’m so ready.”

Chris reached out a hand toward the nightstand but couldn’t quite make it from where they were tangled together in the middle of the bed. Ash leaned over, using his longer reach, and found the lube in one try. He popped the cap and drizzled it onto one hand and then stroked Chris’ dick with it.

“It’s, ah, going to be cold,” Chris warned him as Ash capped the lube and tossed it out of the way.

“Don’t care,” Ash shot back, “you’ll warm me up.”

Chris laughed, hard, at that. “Is that your way of saying I’m hot?”

Ash groaned as he dropped his head to Chris’ chest. “Maybe? I don’t know.” He rolled his head so he could see Chris smiling down at him, his whole face lit with happiness, and kissed the skin he could reach. “And yes, you are,” he murmured.

Chris carded a hand through Ash’s hair and Ash leaned into the touch. He’d let his hair grow after the end of the war, a Klingon tradition in time of peace, and had kept the locks trimmed to just above his shoulders when he joined the _Discovery_. He’d never imagined that it could feel this good to have someone playing with it. Chris, he corrected himself. He’d never imagined it would feel this good to have Chris play with it. There wasn’t a single other person on the ship he would trust, would want to touch him like this.

And like that, he knew what he wanted once again. Ash rolled off Chris so he could sprawl on his back. He pulled Chris with him and used his longer frame and extra muscle to settle Chris between his legs. Chris’ eyes grew wide and Ash offered him a quiet smile, something small and hopeful. He tugged until Chris was draped over him, chest to chest, propped up on one elbow so he could kiss Ash.

“I’m sure,” Ash beat him to the question. “Besides,” he added, unable to hide the small laugh, “pretty sure I’m not going to be coordinated enough to stay on top of you once I get your dick in me. It’s fucking beautiful.”

Chris turned a gorgeous shade of red, which only made Ash smile harder. “Alright,” Chris said as he kissed Ash’s lips, then his cheek, then his forehead, making Ash feel small and safe. “But tell me if something triggers you.”

“Promise,” Ash replied, even though he knew, somehow, impossibly, that he was going to be fine.

Chris shifted around until he could get a pillow under Ash’s hips and then lined himself up. He pressed in close to Ash, blanketing him and dragging his mouth along Ash’s jaw as he began to push in. The slide was exquisite and slow, and Ash let his head fall back, mouth open. Choked-off noises escaped him as he wrapped his legs up and around Chris to allow him to slide in deeper. Chris moved at a nearly glacial pace, waiting for Ash’s body to adjust and stretch around him. Ash dug his fingers into the muscles of Chris’ back, feeling them bunch and release as Chris moved into him with Ash’s body lighting the way.

“You’re,” Chris bit out, sounding breathless as he circled his hips to move in further, “oh god, Ash, you feel — ”

“Perfect,” Ash gasped, back arching to get closer to him. “God, don’t stop.”

Chris finally bottomed out when he got a hand under Ash and lifted him so that they were flush together, ass to hip, slick and hot. Chris was panting as if he’d been sprinting, and Ash was gasping, small noises of desperation that filled the air around them. Ash got a hand on the meat of Chris’ ass and squeezed hard.

“Don’t — don’t move,” he got out around a gasp. “You’re, fuck. I feel so full.”

Ash shifted his hips, hitching them against Chris as he felt his body adjust to the hot weight of Chris in him, around him.

“Oh,” he moaned, eyes rolling back as he felt his body tip into the good kind of tight around Chris.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Chris rumbled. He found Ash’s free hand and tangled their fingers together before giving them a gentle squeeze. “I can wait, darling.”

A choked sound that was partway to a sob escaped Ash and he clung to Chris. His whole body, his mind, the tangle of emotions and memories in his head — all of it was crashing down and reordering into something better, truer, with them together like this. He remembered thinking earlier that day that he had been dangerously close to spilling everything to Chris in the ready room, begging in not so many words and too many all at once, for Chris to help him make sense of it all, help Ash find his way out of the mess in his head and his heart. Now, something was growing still in his chest, creating space for the different parts of his lives, past and present, human and Klingon. For the first time since the prison ship, since being activated, since being deprogrammed, he knew who he was and where he belonged.

He could hear himself gasping still, tiny sounds full of need, mouth open against Chris’ shoulder. He had trusted Chris, taken that leap of faith that Chris would hold him together if Ash did fall to pieces, trusted him to help put Ash back together. And he’d been right to trust Chris. The gentle way Chris touched him, with reverence and acceptance, had Ash spinning like a planet around a sun, finally in the right orbit. Chris treated him as if he _cherished_ Ash, like Ash was something to protect and love, and Ash, floored by the knowledge, believed it.

“Chris,” he breathed, feeling as if his heart had grown three sizes like in the old Earth story of the Grinch.

He tipped his head to the side and nudged Chris’ cheek. “Kiss me, please,” he asked, voice low and soft, something sweet in his tone that surprised him. “And move, for the love of god, fuck me; I’m good.”

Chris brushed his nose along Ash’s beard until their lips met and then he was moving, hips pulling back. Chris rolled his hips forward in a slow, determined path, filling Ash up once more, and Ash sighed into his mouth. The kiss deepened as Chris repeated the motion, with just a bit more power in the thrust that time.

“Harder,” Ash pleaded against his lips. “Wanna feel you when I’m on the bridge tomorrow.”

Chris swore, long and fervently, but Ash couldn’t catch it because then Chris was pulling his hips back and snapping them forward in a sharp motion that made Ash moan loud in the quiet air. Chris did it again, and Ash got a hand in Chris’ hair, holding tight to the short strands, the silky texture a glorious contrast to the calluses on his fingers.

Chris began to fuck him in earnest, hips snapping in and out, driving into Ash with such strength that the air was actually knocked from Ash’s lungs. He’d always thought that was just a saying, something in old Earth romances. Not now though, as Chris fucked into him at a pace that made it impossible to catch his breath. Ash was dizzy with it, the power in Chris’ body as it pushed them both up the bed, the way Chris was murmuring against his skin about how good Ash felt, how Ash felt safe in a position he’d once hated more than anything.

He worked his hips to meet Chris and cried out when it made Chris’ dick brush along his prostate. Stars collided and exploded before his eyes, and the breath evaporated in his lungs as his body soared from the contact.

“Do that again,” he rasped, canting his hips as Chris pulled back.

Chris slammed in hard, nailing that spot again, and Ash wanted to laugh with how glorious it felt, his body lighting up and practically glowing. His body, which had been tortured and abused, had been used as an instrument of death and chaos. His body, which he’d covered in leather and black and enough layers to hide the reminders of it all. His body, containing so much power and strength, yet shaken and weak from nightmares each morning. His body, feeling _right_ now, with a hot, syrupy fire filling his veins, as Chris edged him close and then changed the angle to bring him back down again. His body, which trusted Chris, made room for him, loved every touch from him.

“So good,” Chris said on a gasp as his hips slammed into him again.

“So _right_ ,” Ash moaned, not caring if it was too much or too soon.

Apparently, it was neither, because the words made Chris keen and his hips stutter before picking up a faster pace. Ash was flying, body and mind free from the past, Chris his only contact with the present. Ash clung to him and never wanted the moment to end, never wanted the feeling of cascading desire coursing through him to reach its conclusion.

He could feel the orgasm build though, tingling from the top of his spine as it raced down and his balls tightened, already aching and desperate for release. Ash tried to gasp out that he was close, but he wasn’t sure if it was intelligible beyond shattered syllables of need falling from his lips. Chris, knowing the language of Ash, even when Ash didn’t fully know it, got it.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he grunted, thumb rubbing along Ash’s where their hands were still tangled together on the bed. “Let go.”

Ash threw his head back, the yell cracked and drawn out as he came untouched with Chris once more hitting his prostate. His vision exploded into a kaleidoscope of color swirling together into a nebula, roaring in his ears as the orgasm screamed through him. He was aware of his body clenching and fluttering around Chris as Chris fucked into him, pace faltering as his own orgasm began to build. 

He could hear his voice choke as he exhaled, “ _Christopher_ ,” fervent and laced with the sense of coming home to his body, to them. He managed to clench down and was rewarded with Chris slamming into him, burying deep as he came. Ash sighed, happy and sated, as he felt Chris fill him, not caring about the mess they would have to clean later. Chris’ hips twitched, trying to push in further despite being fully seated, and Ash wondered if it was from the same deep desire to be as close as possible that he was feeling too.

Chris slumped on top of him and mumbled, “I’ll move in, oh god, a minute. Shove me off if it’s — ”

“You’re not,” Ash hummed, completely blissed out. He hadn’t felt this good, this calm in — well, better not to think too hard about how long it had been. “’Sides, you’re like a big, warm blanket.”

Ash wrapped his arms more fully around Chris and leaned his cheek against Chris’ hair. “Good luck escaping.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chris murmured before he kissed Ash’s neck.

Ash tightened his arms around Chris as the words settled him deeper into the relaxed, floating space he was definitely coming to like. Chris moved his free hand to splay along the side of Ash’s neck, thumb rubbing back and forth. The touch was tender, grounding. Ash practically purred his appreciation.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing, but he startled and blinked heavy eyes open when Chris shifted, lifting his hips to slide out of Ash.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Chris soothed, and ran warm fingers down Ash’s chest when Ash made a bereft noise.

Ash tightened his arms just a fraction, not quite ready to fully wake up and let go, for the experience to be over. Chris kissed his jaw and lingered there until Ash relaxed.

“Just going to clean up. I’ll be right back, promise.”

Ash nodded, too sleepy, too fucked-out to manage words beyond one syllable just yet. He couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he heard Chris mutter, “Adorable,” as he shuffled off the bed. Ash stretched his legs, feeling the stretch of muscles not used to moving like that, the way he could already tell he was going to be sore in the morning. He wasn’t even going to crack an eye to look at the mess on his stomach and he was already mentally shuddering about having to clean it off, hoping it hadn’t dried too much and stuck to the soft hairs trailing down to his pelvis. The stuff was a pain to clean, but he wanted to stay limp and warm on the bed for a few more minutes before joining Chris in the washroom.

He was surprised when Chris kneed onto the bed and whispered, “Don’t panic, love. Just going to get you cleaned up, okay?”

Ash cracked an eye open and saw Chris holding a damp washcloth. He cupped Chris’ face with one hand for a moment and then let it fall back to the bed.

“You’re the best,” he said happily as Chris used gentle swipes to clean his stomach.

Ash was smiling as Chris continued to clean him up, luxuriating in the way Chris nudged his legs apart and carefully cleaned his come out of Ash and off where it had dripped out onto his thighs.

“You’d think you’d never been taken care of aft—”

Chris stopped when Ash scratched a far too casual hand over his own stomach and looked sheepish. Ash wondered what he was going to say, what he could possibly say to that revelation, but instead, Chris dropped down to kiss the inside of both thighs and then up to kiss one hipbone where light bruises were already blooming from his own fingers. He looked up at Ash, chin resting there, and Ash felt breathless from the fierce protection he could see in the slate-colored depths.

“I swear,” Chris whispered, just loud enough for Ash to hear, “I’ll take care of you if there’s a next time.”

“What do you mean ‘if’? Did you change your mind?” Ash teased lightly as he hoped against hope that Chris hadn’t actually changed his mind.

He wouldn’t put it past Chris to be this gentle and caring with any lover, no matter if it was a one-time occurrence or longer, but he realized he was hoping that this thing between them was going to trend in the much, much longer direction.

“Nope, didn’t change my mind. Did you?” Chris asked, far too casual, and oh, Ash could tell he was trying not to let the worry show on those beautiful, chiseled features of his.

“Nope. So stop looking like you’re about two seconds from worrying your lip to death and get up here and kiss me,” Ash said, the matter settled, and hoping that the light teasing at the end would be what Chris needed as well.

It was, and Ash felt a bit more confident in his ability to understand Chris, how he felt and what he needed from Ash. Chris tossed the washcloth out of sight and crawled up the length of Ash until he was braced above him on all fours and could dip down to kiss him at a leisurely pace that made Ash’s toes curl with the sweetness.

“Stay?” Chris asked against his lips, which Ash could tell were definitely swollen and red.

Ash looped his arms around Chris and pulled him down, making both of them laugh as Chris landed in an undignified heap on top of him. “Just try getting rid of me,” Ash replied, which made Chris squirm on top of him, clearly pleased, the tips of his ears pink.

Oh, that was a _good_ look on him. Ash made a mental note to find more ways to get Chris to look like that. He was happy and relaxed, blushing from praise, and Ash was hungry to see more of it, to cause more of it.

They laid like that for a while, content to breathe together and run hands over skin where they could reach. Eventually, Ash yawned, his jaw popping in the process.

“Should warn you,” he mumbled, “me and nightmares are, uh, a thing.”

Chris rolled to one side so he could gaze at Ash. “Well, that beats my thinking that the bruises under your eyes are because you’re a vampire.” Ash snorted and one corner of Chris’ mouth tipped up in a smile as he continued. “Don’t worry, love; I’ll wake you if you’re having one. What do you need from me if you do have one?”

Ash turned on his side to mirror Chris and burrowed close. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that today.”

“I like taking care of you,” was Chris’ reply, and it made Ash startle. “So you better get used to me asking it; at least until I learn your answers. Then I’ll stop being annoying with repetitive questions.”

“God, you’re a romantic sap,” Ash exhaled, and then laughed gently as he fought not to visibly tear up. “Good thing that’s my weakness, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chris said, eyes warm, “definitely a good thing.”

Ash kissed him briefly and then pulled back. “Just, talk to me, put a hand on my arm, say my name. Don’t crowd me though, or try to hold me down. I don’t want to have to explain to Dr. Culber that I somehow bodied you out of bed while having a nightmare. He’d probably hit me with a hypospray that turns me purple with green spots or something.”

Chris giggled, actually giggled, and Ash couldn’t help staring in delight as his nose scrunched up and his eyes closed, laughter lines evident. Ash reached out to trail the tips of his fingers down the side of his face, mapping those subtle marks of joy.

“Nah, he’d hit me with that one for being a dumbass and trying to wake you up that way,” Chris finally managed when the laughter had subsided.

Ash ducked in to kiss him and then stayed close so he could see the flecks of granite and sapphire in the depths of Chris’ eyes. Sue him; Chris was happy, Ash was comedumb, and they were both relaxed.

“I’ll bring you out of it,” Chris whispered. “And be here when you wake in the morning, barring — ”

“Ship-ending crises,” Ash finished, matching Chris’ smile.

The smile turned into a yawn and when he opened his eyes after, he found Chris gazing at him, his look fond and open. Since he’d found himself outside Chris’ quarters, the whole evening had been surreal. Part of Ash was still in disbelief that it had happened, that it would happen again. It seemed too good to be real, and too good to happen to someone like him, not when he felt as if he still owed about three centuries of penance before the universe would be able to send anything remotely this good his way. He pushed back at the thought though and found himself asking, needing to know that he wasn’t falling into the wide, all-encompassing emotion spreading through him, only for Chris to not meet him there.

“You’re sure about this, about us?” he asked before worrying the corner of his lip with his teeth.

Chris gathered Ash’s hands in his and smiled. “I’m sure. I want — a lot with you.” He blew out a small breath as if the admittance had not been easy. “But we’re going to move at whatever pace is comfortable for you. As slow or fast as you want. If you want our next time to be tomorrow night, I’m in. If you want it next week, that’s fine too. If you want to talk, I’m in for that too. Don’t hide your past, the parts of yourself you’re still sorting out, just because you’re worried about scaring me off. Trust me on that, on us, okay?”

Ash closed the gap between them like he had before, before he’d crawled into Chris’ lap, and kissed him. Now, the invisible barriers, the emotions and hangups and worries about all his baggage were gone, at least for the moment, reassured by Chris’ words and his loving touch.

“I’m probably going to ask that again,” Ash warned him, with only a breath between them.

“And I’ll answer it the same, promise,” Chris said as he brushed Ash’s hair back from where it had fallen into his eyes. “Sleep,” he murmured, “you’re safe here, with me.”

“I believe it,” Ash whispered, not worried about the admission since Chris had the courage to admit he wanted a lot of things with Ash.

He shuffled around and Chris let himself be guided until he was on his back and Ash was stretched along his side, arm and leg thrown over him. Chris tugged the duvet up over them and Ash let out a contented noise as he settled his head on Chris’ shoulder.

“God, you’re warm,” Chris said a minute later as Ash was beginning to drift off.

“Sorry,” was his mumbled response.

“Don’t be,” Chris shot back — and put his cold toes on Ash’s calf.

Ash yelped and shoved at Chris. Chris, the bastard, just laughed, clearly delighted as he chased after Ash’s legs under the covers, with Ash jerking them back just out of reach. Eventually, they ended up curled together again in the same position as before, laughing breathlessly, with Chris’ slowly warming toes on Ash’s ankle.

“You’re ridiculous,” Ash yawned, tone fond.

“Yeah,” Chris whispered, breathing evening out as he began to drift, “but you love it.”

Ash wasn’t sure if he managed to say it before he slipped under, but the way Chris’ arm tightened protectively around his shoulders, solid and comforting, made him think Chris had heard his reply of, “Yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've got _several_ ideas jotted down for more Ash/Pike fics that follow chronologically after this one, as well as beyond the end of S2. I've also got the idea bouncing around in my brain of fic answering the question, "What if Ash had brought his son onto the _Discovery_ and raised him there instead?" Yell at me in the comments if either of those sound like something y'all would like to see more of.
> 
> Title of the fic from ["In Landscape"](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-landscape/) by Buddy Wakefield.


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